


Chilled Peaches

by Blazonix



Series: Dreaming of Bleach [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Humor, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blazonix/pseuds/Blazonix
Summary: Adventure, love, glory - there's no getting that while dead. She can't push the reincarnation button fast enough. Hinamori Momo is a good name for a protagonist, she thinks.Hitsugaya just wants it on record that he didn't sign up for any of this.
Relationships: Hinamori Momo & Hitsugaya Toushirou
Series: Dreaming of Bleach [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163327
Comments: 178
Kudos: 286
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts





	1. Chapter 1

She dies as she is carpooling to work. The vehicle beside her loses traction on the icy roads and spins right into the passenger seat where she sits. It is quick and near painless.

There is no one waiting for her—the only one who will miss her is her roommate, but only because she hadn’t paid her half of next month’s rent—and she hasn’t done anything with herself since she graduated high school.

 _A tragedy_ , people say as her remains are scraped together, _but thankfully not a real loss._

The media will use her death as an excuse to shame unsafe drivers without even mentioning her name, and life will continue on as if she was never born.

It’s almost upsetting that she gets taken out in a such a mundane way before the prime of her youth.

She takes comfort in the fact that heaven is a quaint, little coffee shop. The warmth in the color of the walls, the over-sized comfy-looking furniture, and the smooth piano playing in the background do much to ease the awkwardness of being the only one there.

“What will you be having?” The barista asks with strange shifting pupils.

The smell of coffee gives way to something that resembles Possibility. It is a strange scent; one that whispers all her secret desires. Fame, fortune, glory. Family, romance. She needs but only ask.

How weird. She never knew concepts _could_ smell.

“I don’t suppose you have Adventure here?” She finally decides on.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The barista smiles, and their eyes shift into happy little crescents.

“I’ll take it!” There is no hesitation, only an overwhelming desire for something better than mundane.

“Then let us discuss payment.”

Woven before her eyes is a tale of a god, who is murdered by their own son, and a boy that tries and fails to stop the murderer. Swords made of souls rip through monsters, unbreakable bonds are forged, and a lot of people run around with spiky hair for some reason.

The son of the god is called Yhwach, and she is tasked with stopping him before the murder even happens. It will be dangerous, and her very soul will hang in the balance—

She signs her name on the dotted line, snaps off a salute, and throws the door open to her new life before the barista can even finish explaining.

Just like that, her existence is erased, and she becomes someone new. There is no regret at the loss of her name; to her, it is a small fee for everything she stands to gain.

And boy does she stand to gain.

 _Hinamori Momo is definitely the name of a protagonist from a love story_ , she thinks with stars in her eyes.

* * *

Her new parents welcome her into the world with smiles on their faces, and there are many people who come to coo at her cute, little baby self. Not a day goes by where she’s left alone; the house she lives in is always lively and full.

Only her parents share blood with her. The town is apparently overcrowded, and her parents share their home with anyone who asks. It’s fine though; that just means there are more people to wrap around her itty-bitty fingers.

The kimono given to her once she’s able to walk is a hand-me-down, but the fabric is well taken care of. An auntie rips and resews the hem to cover her bare legs whenever she grows. The few times she feels anything remotely close to hunger, food is practically shoved down her throat, and whenever she wakes, there is always someone willing to brush and tie her hair.

Junrinan, or District 1 as it is otherwise known, is a warm and welcoming place. She grows up a bit spoiled. Just a bit.

Time crawls at a snail’s pace. She doesn’t notice this fact until twenty years go by and she remains a child to be loved and doted upon. Despite her age, she remains tiny and is not allowed to leave her guardian’s sight.

At twenty-five, she can play without supervision, and she finds herself surrounded with equally small, but far more stupid children. She ends up creating simple and silly games to get out of interacting with them.

A decade later, she comes across a small boy sitting by himself in the park. She’s never seen him before—she’d recognize that shock of white hair if she had—so he must have only recently been turned loose from his guardian. There’s a cup-and-ball toy in his hand, but she wouldn’t call what he’s doing playing.

With the way the boy is flailing around, it’d be a miracle if he doesn’t hurt himself with the toy.

On silent feet, she approaches the boy and crouches down to stare at the side of his face. Too busy glaring at the toy with an intensity that looks comical, he never notices her. She waits until the perfect moment to poke him in the side, and the boy falls face first into the dirt with a yell.

“Gotcha!” She sticks her tongue out.

The boy, rubbing the dirt out of his eyes, growls at her like a beast. Before she can apologize for the prank, he flies at her with tiny fists curled up; it’s on reflex that she steps to the side and spanks his butt hard enough to put him back in the dirt.

There is another growl, and he is up and lunging at her once more. She twirls out of the way and pushes him back down with a laugh. They continue this vicious cycle until the boy gives up and remains lying face first in the dirt.

“I’m Momo,” she cheerfully introduces herself to his prone figure, “and we’re going to be best friends!”

The boy hisses at her, and she smiles. She always wanted a minion.

She grabs the boy by the hand and begins telling him about herself. He doesn’t tell her his name, doesn’t say anything but “Go away” while trying to tug his hand back, but that’s okay. She has her ways.

“That’s little Tōshirō,” a nearby auntie tells her, “he lives with his grandmother just down the street. See the fancy one with the fence?”

“Thank you very much!” She bows to the auntie as Tōshirō attempts to wrench his arm out of her hold.

She heads towards to the house with her minion in one hand and the toy in the other. Tōshirō’s first and last attempt to bite her on the way there ends with teeth marks on his own arm. She stops in front of the gate and turns to her minion.

“Hey, little Shirō, watch _this_.” Holding up the cup-and-ball toy, she twists her wrist and wins in one attempt. Tōshirō looks at her with wide, innocent turquoise eyes. The amazement is clear in his expression.

“Want me to teach you how to do it?” Her bangs hide her glinting eyes.

Tōshirō’s tiny head bobs, unaware of the contract he has just signed.

* * *

From then on, she comes over every day to play with her new best friend and endears herself to his grandmother.

“Just call me Granny,” the old woman tells her warmly.

“Stop calling me little Shirō,” Tōshirō scowls at her.

“Of course, Granny,” she smiles before patting Tōshirō on the head, “and no.”

The days pass by beautifully, wonderfully, and all thoughts of stopping the son of a god from murder has fled from her mind entirely. Instead, she turns her eyes to the idea of owning an inn, and she begins saving money in a jar labeled “Momo’s Inn Fund.”

The way she goes about earning her money is perhaps a little…unusual.

Tōshirō, it turns out, is skilled in everything he does. When spinning top competitions become an overnight sensation, he is already there, on the fast track to becoming champion. When she isn’t behind him cheering him on, she can be found nearby with a little black book and a bag of betting funds up her sleeve.

It’s pocket change, she’s prepared to say at any time. Just enough to get a few pieces of sweets. No need to make a big deal out of it.

At the end of the day, she stuffs the coins into the jar with stars in her eyes, and Tōshirō gives her a disappointed look.

(He still throws in more coins into her jar when she isn’t looking.)

Honestly, if it were not for the fact that Seireitei’s walls loom over Junrinan like an enormous castle, she would have even forgotten that Soul Reapers are a thing. Rarely is there any trouble in District 1.

That is why it takes her by surprise when her parents go out on a job to help with construction, and never return home. It was Hollows, they tell her. The hungry souls of the damned turned into monsters. Tore her parents into shreds along with everyone onsite.

She cries into her pillow until she makes herself sick. It’s not until tiny, little Shirō bursts through her door to pack her belongings that she regains the will to continue on. She places her hair in a half-hearted bun, grabs a bag, and leaves for good.

This moment—the strangers in her house screaming farewells behind her, the unbearably heavy luggage, the frozen tears on Tōshirō’s eyelashes as he gently pulls her by the hand to his house—she will remember forever.

(The small hand holding hers is so warm, yet so cold. There is no way she can forget the sensation.)

She unpacks her things into her new bedroom before leaving it to curl up beside Granny on a futon. Tōshirō falls asleep against the doorframe as if afraid she will leave for some reason.

The next day, she places the jar that declares “Momo’s Inn Fund” in the back of the closet and places an old shirt over it. There is a payment she needs to make, and money is not the currency to use.

“I’m going to enter the Soul Reaper academy,” she announces with resolve in her heart.

It’s a common story: a child loses something in a Hollow attack, and they decide to become a Soul Reaper. Everyone who hears her words nod knowingly and ask, “So you want revenge then?”

Well, not really. Even if she had super amazing Soul Reaper powers, she doubts she would have been able to save her parents. They had their own lives while doing their own things. She probably would have still been left behind.

It’s mainly because she has a task that needs doing, and Tōshirō’s future lies with the Soul Reapers. She wants to protect the only family she has left, and it aligns with her mission.

She knows little Shirō will grow up to be a Soul Reaper because he’s already told her.

(“I have these dreams,” Tōshirō says quietly, “of someone calling my name.”

Tōshirō is normally all teeth and spiky edges, but when she is doing embroidery—it’s a handkerchief this time—he’ll grow weirdly talkative.

“Hm,” she hums for a moment, “isn’t that your sword spirit?”

“Sword spirit?”

“Yeah, like the ones Soul Reapers carry.”

She decides her stitches are too ugly; she will have to throw the whole thing away. With her focus on her work, she doesn’t notice Tōshirō’s dumbstruck expression.)

Granny supports her decision and finds her books for the entrance exam. Tōshirō is the one that makes such a fuss that she eventually decides to dropkick him into the river to get him to stop.

Of course, she is pulled straight into the river with him while trying to get him out.

“Momo, you airhead!” Tōshirō yells at her after saving both himself and her from drowning.

“Eheh,” she giggles hysterically, “whoops. Sorry, Shirō.”

“You can’t even keep your balance,” Tōshirō grouses. “Why are you going to the academy?”

“To protect you,” she says after getting her breathing under control.

It is the truth, one made in the depths of her soul, but not the full truth. Normal people would have stopped there, she knows, but if she can’t trust Tōshirō, then what is the point?

So, she continues to say, “Also, I told the Soul King I’d help them.”

Tōshirō nearly coughs himself unconscious with that one.

It takes a lot of backtracking, repetition, and attempts at explaining concepts, but Tōshirō takes her story pretty well. It probably helps that he’s a lot smarter than her which actually seems to concern him quite a bit.

“Why? Why you?” Tōshirō groans while covering his eyes. “You don’t even remember our neighbors’ _names_ , but you’re expected to change the future? Soul Society is doomed.”

“It’ll be fine,” she says cheerfully. “Even if I mess up, some guy named after a berry will show up and fix things.”

“Shit,” Tōshirō says succinctly.

* * *

Her time in the academy begins with a frantic Tōshirō dragging her to her entrance exam. She supposes she should not have spent all night reading romance novels to calm her nerves; all it did was make her late.

“I should have led you in the wrong direction,” he scowls before shoving her towards a Soul Reaper with a clipboard.

“Thanks Shirō, you’re the best,” she says, meaning it with all her heart.

From there, she goes through a quick exam, and the Soul Reaper in charge gives her a demeaning pat on the head before pushing her into a room to fill out forms. She’s welcomed into the Soul Reaper academy with no problems.

“Bah, who the hell can read this shit?” A gangster-looking red-head mutters under his breath.

She looks down at her neatly written pamphlet before staring at his taped-together piece of trash. The gangster man seems to almost vibrate in rage, but he’s careful not to crease his paper.

“Hi there,” she steps forward while waving her pamphlet. “I don’t understand a few things on here. Would you like to help me?”

“Oh, uh, sure?” The gangster blinks down at her.

Her new friend’s name is Renji, and while he’s crude, he takes special care not to make her feel threatened by his presence. As they go over the brief dorm guide together, a lanky blond-headed man with a friendly face wanders over with faltering steps.

“Do you two need help?” The man asks uncertainly.

She glances up at Renji. She spies a familiar glint in his eyes, and they both nod in shared thought. She grabs one arm of Mr. Nice Guy, and Renji grabs the other. The man lets out a squawk of surprise but seems too stunned to actually fight them off.

“You are now my minion, no back talk,” she tells him before saying far more politely, “and yes, help would be lovely.”

Kira Izuru is his name, she learns. From there, he helps them settle into their new rooms. Apparently all three of them are in the accelerated classes, and she doesn’t have the correct guide anyway.

That is how she makes her second friend of the day.

* * *

The academy is more fun than she thought it would be. She misses Granny and Tōshirō but making new friends and learning new things is a breath of fresh air to her previous stagnant lifestyle.

And she can definitely say that not much compares to the excitement of learning the name of her Zankpakuto. Which she hasn’t yet, but she’s getting there.

She hopes her partner is aware enough to be Kidō-based. Swordsmanship really isn’t her thing, but Kidō is where she excels. There is just something about transforming spirit particles to do her bidding. Kidō is basically magic in her hands, and she loves it.

Her instructors tell her that she has a future with the Kidō Corps if she wants it. She puts that thought on the back burner. For the moment, she needs a squad that will fight on the frontlines if she wants to get anything done.

The only incident that really stands out during her time in the academy is during a training exercise to the real word. It goes wrong of course, but she has Renji and Izuru to back her up.

There, she meets _him_.

Captain Aizen and Lieutenant Ichimaru rescue them from becoming Hollow bait, and upon taking in the captain’s disarming smile, she feels something flutter in the bottom of her stomach.

“You did a good job holding out,” Captain Aizen praises her with an unfairly beautiful expression.

Renji and Izuru think it is a budding crush. Renji teases her relentlessly afterwards while Izuru defends her with backhanded words. They both make a declaration to buy her a pair glasses just like the captain’s with their first paycheck.

She doesn’t let it get to her. Captain Aizen’s face sticks with her all the way to graduation, and she has a vague feeling that she’s forgotten something important.

Something about smiles and glasses and getting stabbed.

During her time with the academy, she makes it a point to go home as often as she can. Usually nothing changes from her last visit, but this time, she opens the door to a small party being set out for her.

Granny gives her a hug, and Tōshirō gives her a good luck charm before crossing his arms and looking away. They settle down for something resembling a feast, and she very pointedly doesn’t say a word about how Tōshirō hasn’t grown the entire time she’s been in school.

Folding her squad assignment papers into a fan, she waves it around until her wrist gets sore. The words “5th Division” stare back at her through the entire dinner, and eventually something unlocks itself in her brain. She waits until Granny goes to bed before making her revelation known.

“Oh, hey, I remember now. Captain Aizen is the guy with the mind-altering powers! I think he’s going to brainwash me into loving him,” she says.

“What.” Tōshirō straightens up in alarm.

“There was something about how just seeing his Zanpakuto lets him fry your brain or something.” She strains to recall more of what the Soul King said and comes up empty. “Oh well, I’m sure it’ll work out somehow. Berry’s got this.”

“Momo, you airhead!” Tōshirō slams a fist against the table, accidentally freezing it over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something that was the complete opposite of Reaping Justice, so here we are.
> 
> (Good luck, Hitsugaya. It's all on you to save the universe because Soul King now knows Momo can't.)


	2. Chapter 2

Fingers slide through black bangs until they frame a small face smoothly. A crisp, black kimono uniform wraps around a slim body with every knot tied and hidden away. Sticking her tongue out, large round eyes sparkle back at her in the mirror.

Perfect, she thinks. Her immense cuteness will make the world shake.

Bouncing out of her dorm room for the last time, she heads towards her new home: 5th district. Renji and Izuru, unwilling to wait for her to finish preening, have gone ahead to the 5th instead of waiting for her.

How rude to make a lady walk by herself. She’ll have to work harder on beating manners into them.

Well, maybe that can be put off for later; right now, she needs to focus and begin her next goal in life: catching a man within 200 years. Not that she _needs_ a man; she just wants one. If he’s pretty enough, she’ll even let him be her gigolo.

Consequently, she is ready to start her Soul Reaper career too.

“Took you long enough, Momo,” Renji smirks at her as she makes it to the division’s orientation with only a few minutes to spare. “Bet she spent the whole time in front of the mirror again.”

“I don’t think I’ll be taking that bet,” Izuru chuckles.

Izuru leans down to pat her on the head when she scowls, and she debates kicking him in the shin for a hot minute. Letting it go with a sigh, she wedges between the two of them and loops her arms through theirs.

“I’m just glad we’re here together,” she says, meaning it with all her heart.

According to her—admittedly shaky—intel, Renji and Izuru will be leaving the division at some point to go their separate ways. It means the world to be able to stand here, laughing together like this.

She’ll do her best to see them off with a smile; after all, there’s plenty of time to hang out after work. When she’s not too busy with her 200 year plan though. Neither Renji nor Izuru fill the requirements of “heroine” to her “hero,” so some sacrifices have to be made.

“You all did wonderful to make it here. Stand proud of yourselves for attaining the rank of Soul Reaper,” Captain Aizen says, walking into 5th division’s courtyard followed by the ever-creepy Lieutenant Ichimaru.

Taking that as a silent cue, everyone lines up and gives Captain Aizen their most serious faces. She tries to keep her eyes on the man’s glasses instead of what lies behind them as he goes on about working together and being diligent in their duties.

It’s a shame that Captain Aizen is such a bad man; he’s so pretty. She would have showered him with only the best gifts.

“Focus,” Izuru hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

Perhaps this catches Captain Aizen’s attention because he is soon leaning over her with the world’s most dazzling smile.

“I welcome you to 5th division,” he winks down at her.

She can’t help herself; she blushes.

 _A bad, bad man_ , she thinks forlornly.

* * *

True to their word, Renji and Izuru use their first paycheck to split the payment on a pair of eyeglasses identical to the captain’s. She spends all of five minutes wondering what to do with them.

Gluing the glasses to a teddy bear whose fur is the same color as Captain Aizen’s hair, she places the stuffed animal on her bed in the barracks. The only thing her roommate does upon seeing it is asking where to get one herself.

Tobiume has something to say about it though.

“What if your man sees this? Do you think he will understand?” The Zanpakuto frets, long kimono sleeves fluttering with exaggerated movements of worry.

“We’ll just get rid of it if it ever becomes an issue,” she says.

Large, worried eyes show that Tobiume is not reassured in the slightest, but the sword spirit yields the point like always. She grabs her Zanpakuto by the hands and squeezes.

“It’ll never leave this room,” she promises, “which means he’ll never see it. I don’t put out until marriage.”

“Of course not!” Tobiume gasps, scandalized. “Your first time is worth more than all of Seireitei! I will kill him if he tries anything!”

Honestly, virginity doesn’t mean much to her—she doesn’t think much of sex either—but she must appeal to her sword friend, who is on the old-fashioned side. Considering that Tobiume gives in to her selfishness most of the time, this is something she is willing to compromise on.

“I’ll be counting on you to defend my honor,” she tells the Zankpakuto, trying not to giggle.

“Leave it to me! I will burn everything to ashes should anything happen to you,” Tobiume utters darkly.

* * *

The only responsibility of 5th division is handling the overflow of jobs from other divisions. This means their duties vary day-by-day. They can be fighting Hollows one day and scrubbing toilets the next. No matter which, they must do so with a smile. Captain’s orders.

Of course, in a stagnant place like Soul Society, sometimes there is nothing that needs doing. It makes those times when she’s in the middle of a moderately difficult task—like moving a bunch of heavy boxes filled with paperwork—that when someone comes along and yanks it out of her hands, she wants to scream.

It is not a onetime event. She’ll even get thrown out of group projects with a unanimous, “We’ve got this. You go rest.” It is starting to feel like she has to fight tooth and nail just to work.

“It’s because you look like a small, helpless animal,” Renji tells her after she vents the issue to him. “Start smacking them, and they’ll stop.”

“Don’t listen to Renji,” Izuru warns her when she goes for a second opinion. “Just tell them you’d like to do it yourself. Politely.”

After a short conference with Tobiume, she decides on her best course of action. With the Captain’s permission, she requests a spar with every Soul Reaper in her division. She thanks them for their time after they stop twitching in the dirt. Politely.

(“You have a remarkable talent for Kidō,” Captain Aizen tells her, eyeglasses glinting.

“Thank you, but I can only chain the basic spells together,” she says, ignoring Lieutenant Ichimaru’s frightening stare coming from over the captain’s shoulder.

They all ignore the man by her feet still hogtied by magical bonds and snoring away.)

The results of her spars speak for themselves; instead of getting her tasks taken from her, now her 5th division comrades cheer her on. She even starts a box to store all her “You can do it!” cards and mementos they hand her.

She regales this all to Tōshirō when they meet up for dinner. She’s too busy admiring his academy uniform to notice his face sliding into one of repulsion.

“You have a fan club,” Tōshirō says with hints of disgust.

“I don’t think so? It’s not like they have merchandise with my face on it.”

She should know; her roommate is part of the captain’s fan club. The poster that smiles at anyone walking into their bedroom used to freak her out.

“That you know of,” Tōshirō snaps out. “But for an airhead like you to have fans, what’s wrong with them,” he grumbles under his breath.

She pretends to not hear it.

“How’s school coming, little Shirō? Made any new friends?” She asks, mindlessly stirring the rice in her bowl with chopsticks.

“Stop calling me that,” Tōshirō scowls. “And I don’t have time for friends.”

He doesn’t say that it’s her fault that he is climbing through the academy fast enough to make Seireitei’s heads spin, but there is no doubt that she has a part to play. Tōshirō’s worried what Captain Aizen will do to her, after all. He’s also worried that she’ll do something stupid in name of her mission.

But she’s been there before; lived and died trying to build a life that was only passing her by. Even if the end of the world happens because of it, she’s going to make sure Tōshirō won’t live the same way.

“I’m going to make a lot of friends for you, if all you do is work,” she warns. “You’re going to eat cake until you throw up for your birthdays, and you’ll find your paperwork suddenly missing.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Tōshirō says before hiding his face behind his bowl of beef and rice.

She smiles and takes a stab at her rice. Imagines it as Captain Aizen’s pretty face. The chopsticks in her hands crack.

* * *

She doesn’t spend a lot of time with Lieutenant Ichimaru. He’s kind of mean, and she doesn’t watch what she says around him even when he doles out punishment for it. He also purposely twists his pretty face into something ugly, which is unforgivable.

“You have three dummies left to stuff and only two minutes left, Peaches,” Lieutenant Ichimaru singsongs while looming over her with a wicked grin.

“Give me two more minutes and I’ll sing you a song,” she offers while tying a straw arm onto its training dummy.

“You can’t sing,” Lieutenant Ichimaru points out.

“Then give me two more minutes, or I’ll sing you a song.”

Lieutenant Ichimaru, amused by her argument, allows her the extra minutes to finish and escape further punishment. She tidies up the training supplies and, upon noticing the lieutenant still watching her, asks if he wants to grab tea with her.

“Oh? Didn’t ya like the captain? Or do pretty faces do it for ya?” Lieutenant Ichimaru asks with a mocking undertone.

“Oh no, I like pretty faces,” she replies without thinking, “but the captain’s a bit too evil for me. I like someone who won’t stab me for kicks.”

Lieutenant Ichimaru stares at her with open eyes, and she wonders if she’s about to receive yet more punishment. Which is unfair considering that she already has to weed the gardens for accidentally insulting a captain of a different division.

She decides to add fuel to the fire, “And your face isn’t pretty by the way. I was just being polite.”

Lieutenant Ichimaru grabs her into a headlock and rubs his knuckles against her scalp until she cries. Upon noticing the blood on the back of his hand, Lieutenant Ichimaru lets out a “Whoops” and picks her up like a sack of potatoes. Toting her to a tea shop, he buys her milk tea and a cookie.

“If you don’ wanna disappear, keep your thoughts about ol’ captain to yourself,” Lieutenant Ichimaru tells her, accent thickening with each word.

“Okay,” she nods, teary-eyed.

(“What a good guy,” she remarks to Renji and Izuru as Lieutenant Ichimaru tosses Soul Reapers through windows like basketballs during next day’s training.

“Hah?” Renji gapes at her with disbelief; the bandages on his head already soaked with blood.

Izuru, hand pressed against his shoulder, looks at the lieutenant with a considering hum.)

* * *

Tōshirō graduates from the academy to the 10th division, Shikai already in hand, and whispers of “prodigy” behind his back. She congratulates him with a good luck charm, and they both have dinner with Granny.

“So have you found your groom yet, Momo?” Granny asks.

Tōshirō doesn’t fully choke on the soup in his mouth, but tears prickle the edges of his eyes as he tries to act like he didn’t just inhale it.

“Not yet, Granny,” she says with a sigh. “All the good ones are taken.”

They share a commiserating look as Tōshirō guzzles down a glass of milk with a sullen look. Granny’s still working on her wedding kimono, but at this rate, she’ll have to wear it to signify her marriage to work.

(“No pressure.” Granny shows her the kimono one day while embroidering a white flower on top of white silk. “It takes a long time to make, and I want to have it on hand should you need it.”

“Oh, it’s going to happen,” she refutes. “I just have to find him first.”

“And then he’ll go running for the hills,” Tōshirō says dryly.

She smacks him over the head.)

“Tell me about your new captain, Tōshirō,” Granny moves the topic on with a smile.

“He’s an idiot,” Tōshirō says bluntly.

Tōshirō recounts some of 10th division captain’s antics, and most of it involves him getting treated like a child. She can’t say she blames Captain Shiba for taking one look at her tiny friend and deciding to parent him. She only stays silent about his lack of growth because it is a touchy issue.

Every now and then, Tōshirō mentions a Masumoto with angry eyes, and she barely refrains from gushing over the fact that he’s made a new friend. He still catches the look in her eyes anyway.

“She’s not my friend,” Tōshirō says vehemently.

“Sure, sure,” she says, already planning a bigger party for Tōshirō’s next birthday.

She buys a scarf with little bunnies on it and makes Tōshirō gift it to Masumoto on her behalf. He has to be threatened, but he does it in the end. She gets a set of drinking glasses in return.

It is the start of another beautiful friendship.

(She crosses out a line on a list written in a code only she knows of. She smiles.)

* * *

Eventually Lieutenant Ichimaru is transferred to 3rd division as its new captain. She sends him a basket of persimmons before he goes, and in return he makes her clean out his desk for him.

“Cheer up, Peaches,” Ichimaru’s grin widens as she shoots him a glare over the box in her arms. “You’ll look back on this fondly.”

She sticks out her tongue before moving the box into the 5th’s storeroom. True, she’ll miss him, but it’s like missing a poisonous mushroom accidentally grown in a cup.

On the other hand, losing Izuru and Renji, who are being shuffled out with the lieutenant, is a much worse feeling. It’s like saying goodbye to a beloved dog after placing it in a better home. Izuru is leaving for the 3rd with Ichimaru, and Renji is going to the 11th.

While she’s stuck here with the pretty psychopath who wants world domination.

As most are unaware of the true face of their captain, everyone is working on becoming the next lieutenant of 5th division. She doesn’t care about such a thing; there is only one strong desire she has aside from gaining a boyfriend.

“If I had one wish,” she says while leaning against the wall of the storeroom in melancholy, “I wish I could not get stabbed.”

It’s a reasonable desire, she thinks. No one likes getting stabbed unless they are a weirdo.

(Even then, getting stabbed in the middle of battle has nothing on being stabbed from behind while relaxed at home. To be betrayed when least expecting it.)

“Cheer up!” She slaps her cheeks with narrow eyes. “I’m going to get strong enough to hit the captain in the balls!”

It is the least she could do before Berry takes over.

* * *

There’s a new determination burning inside of her; she wants to get stronger. She wants to eventually cry out Bankai with her friends and move the world with her fingertips.

On the next Hollow extermination, she runs headfirst into the scuffle, Kidō script on her tongue and Zanpakuto in hand. It’s different from her usual support in the back.

This time, she focuses on killing the Hollows before they can injure her comrades instead of restraining and wearing away their health. Tobiume consumes all in her path, and she feels like she’s on top of the world.

That is, until her division surround her with wide eyes and disbelieving expressions. Then she sort of feels caged in.

“When did you attain Shikai?” They howl down at her.

“Oh, that. I—”

 _Do not say you’ve had it for ages_ , Tobiume interjects frantically.

“—just got it. Just now,” she says before smiling awkwardly. “Eheh?”

The burning remains of the forest continue to smolder behind her. Her comrades exchange looks between themselves, and she wonders if she’s in trouble. Perhaps she overdid it a tiny bit with the fireballs.

“Momo for lieutenant?” One of the Soul Reapers suddenly throws up a hand.

“Momo for lieutenant!” Is the answering cry.

“I don’t think that’s how that works.” Her words are drowned out by the continuing chant that calls for her rapid promotion.

She allows them to carry her back to 5th like a champion returned from an epic battle. She can’t stop herself from laughing at their antics. Her comrades are normally composed and gentle; it’s only after a battle that they act so bizarrely.

She’ll let them dream for just a little longer. The captain wouldn’t allow someone who just got their Shikai to be in such a position of power.

* * *

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Hinamori,” Captain Aizen says with that alluring voice of velvet.

She giggles stupidly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay strong, Momo. Impress Berry-kun with your ball-kicking skills.


	3. Chapter 3

Being the second-in-command of 5th division is the highest she’s ever been on any kind of food chain. It is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Admittedly, half the terror is caused by her captain, and most of the excitement is rendered moot by her calm and competent subordinates.

“Lieutenant Hinamori, here is a stack of forms from the 9th to sign off on.”

When the majority of her paperwork is handed to her, it’s already filled out, and usually there’s no need for corrections.

“Lieutenant Hinamori, group one is ready to go once you give the word!”

Most of 5th division is a well-oiled machine that can run even without a direct superior; this includes everything from breaking up internal fights to combating Hollows.

“Lieutenant Hinamori, the office is on fire.”

“Eheh, sorry about that.”

Using silent Kidō to mimic her Shikai abilities inside her office might be a tad bit unprofessional, but there’s no way her division already has a plan in place for it!

“Everyone has already been evacuated and most of the flames are under control, ma’am!”

“Oh.”

Really, it’s kind of a let down that most of her duties are secretarial ones in disguise. Managing schedule rotation is fine and all, but there is certainly nothing heroic about it.

Her biggest feat is fooling everyone into believing she’s a proper lieutenant during the meetings.

(1st division’s Lieutenant Sasakibe’s dry droning comes to an end only for 2nd division’s Lieutenant Ōmaeda to begin bragging about his division’s wealth disguised as concern for everyone else. She zones out with blank eyes and a vacant smile until Lieutenant Kotetsu turns towards her.

“Everything’s fine to the point it’s suspicious,” she says cheerily before handing the spotlight to Lieutenant Shirogane.

She mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done before going back to watching a mental recreation of a television show inside her head. She can’t remember whether the vampires were gay or not, so there’s a bit of making it up as she goes.

Thinking on it, wouldn’t vampires prefer blood-type over gender? Would that make them blood-sexual or hemo-sexual?

“—thoughts on the issue, Lieutenant Hinamori?”

“I agree with Lieutenant Kusajishi,” she answers automatically.

“Hah? _You want to build a swimming pool for the 11 th_? That was a joke, right? _Right_?” Lieutenant Hisagi asks with something like despair as the small, pinkish Lieutenant Kusajishi screams in delight.

“Sure, sure,” she says with a vague smile.)

Her promotion means that she is encouraged not only to work with her squad but to befriend the other divisions’ lieutenants. While she hangs out with Masumoto and Izuru the most, she does her best to get to know the others as well.

It’s not long before she ends up writing a new list.

_Sasikibe Chojiro – married_

_Ōmaeda Nikkōtarōemon Yoshiayamenosuke Marechiyo – name too long_

_Kira Izuru – a bro_

_Kotetsu Isane – a cowardly bro_

_Hinamori Momo – can’t marry self (check to make sure)_

_Shirogane Ginjirō – married_

_Iba Tetsuzaemon – smokes, gangster, writes Guy Corner_

_Ise Nanao – a dom, scary_

_Hisagi_ _Shūhei – a sub, natural heroine??? no a loser_

_Matsumoto Rangiku – L. Shirō would get mad_

_Kusajishi Yachiru – no_

_Kurotsuchi Nemu – no, kick captain in balls_

_~~Aizen~~ _ ~~~~

“Momo, what is that?”

Renji leans over her shoulder, and she crumples the paper before he can see more than a few words.

“Nothing at all,” she lies, and the list turns to ashes with a twitch of her finger; she gets a disapproving look from the restaurant’s server.

Renji seats himself across from her with a dull stare. She pastes on her best “Who me?” smile, and Izuru and Hisagi show up before any accusations can be flung. Izuru takes the chair next to her while Hisagi smiles awkwardly at her.

“Hey, bro,” Renji says to Izuru with a smirk.

She flings a napkin at his face.

Despite a majority of them being single, there really is no one she’d like to pursue among her fellow lieutenants. Which is unfortunate because one side effect of her position is that she must be careful of rank. Captains are too far out of reach, and unranked Soul Reapers are too far below.

She supposes her next targets are the 3rd through 5th seats of each division.

“Marry me and we can run away into the sunset!” Masumoto teases after listening to her woes over a night of drinking.

“I’d get murdered by Tōshirō and Captain Ichimaru,” she replies with a sigh.

Masumoto laughs into her fourth cup of sake as she gulps down fruit juice mournfully. Who knew finding a man would be so hard? Finding the perfect one seems nigh impossible.

(Hisagi, the closest so far, will require her to learn how to be a dominatrix. He’s a last resort only.)

Eventually she’s unable to take it and brings her worries to Granny. She’s given a painless knock on the head with a paper fan.

“Be confident in yourself. The willingness to communicate and compromise is the first step to finding your happiness.” Granny takes one look at her vacant expression before switching to better phrasing. “A hero doesn’t go looking for their heroine. It just happens.”

The words are like a smack to the face, and her eyes widen in realization.

“That’s right. The heroine always falls into the hero’s lap out of nowhere! How did I forget?” She giggles with a radiate smile. “Thanks, Granny, you’re the best!”

She gives the old woman a hug before running for the door. She has to go anyway, and this is a perfect stopping point in the conversation. Captain Aizen may forgive her tardiness on the surface, but she has no doubt he’s keeping track in his murder basement.

“And remember, you don’t need to change anything about yourself! You are perfect as you are!” Granny yells before she can shunpo away.

* * *

Despite having only been a Soul Reaper for a short while, her Little Shirō—Tōshirō, she’s trying to get into the habit of saying—is promoted to captain. It’s not the celebratory affair she would have liked. Captain Shiba is missing, and Lieutenant Masumoto is still just that—a lieutenant.

Jealousy, grief, and anxiety all mix into a dark haze that settles over 10th division. She can only do her best to cheer on Tōshirō and Masumoto, who have trouble with the new boundary in their relationship. They’re still friends of course, so it doesn’t take long for them to straighten it out.

It helps that 10th division must remain united against a hostile Seireitei.

“Listen to this. You know how those losers from the 11th keep bothering us? Zaraki isn’t just turning a blind eye, he’s actively encouraging the little shits!” Masumoto tells her with an uncharacteristic scowl.

Apparently Tōshirō’s sudden responsibility for his entire division is worsened by other divisions actively trying to sabotage him. The other captains look away because they aren’t sure Tōshirō belongs on their level.

Her smiles grow colder each time she sees her superiors.

She goes to the next lieutenant meeting with a plate of handmade sweets and a modified slingshot. The sweets disappear the moment they hit the meeting table. She waits until she hears a satisfied burp before she slides the slingshot across the table.

“For every member of your squad that gets tagged, I’ll give you a cookie,” she says.

The meeting room goes silent at her odd behavior apart from Masumoto who chokes on a laugh.

“Chocolate chip! Double chocolate chip!, No, triple chocolate chip!” Yachiru demands with crumbs lining her mouth.

“You got it.” She smiles.

Eyebrows are raised—Izuru seems to be trying to signal her with his eyes—but the only thing she does is stick her tongue out. Her reputation as a proper lieutenant goes up in smoke, but she’s never cared less.

Results come in the next morning. Loudly.

“Momo,” Tōshirō scowls, “ _what did you do_?”

She folds her hands across her desk in mimicry of Captain Aizen and blinks innocently at him. Tōshirō leans across the desk with gnashed teeth, and she bites her lip to keep from giggling.

“Momo,” he grits out.

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies airily.

Tōshirō rubs his forehead like he’s coming down with a headache, and she feels a pang of guilt. Not too much though; the bags under his eyes and the uncombed hair have been there since before yesterday.

She makes a mental note to help fix his captain haori on her next day off; whoever shrunk it did a poor job.

“Certain members of the 11th might be unable to enter the 10th if they get too noisy.” She decides to come clean.

“It was the slingshot, wasn’t it?” Tōshirō’s head drops with a sigh.

“Oh, Masumoto told you?” She claps her hands in delight. They must have fully made up then.

The slingshot comes with a clip of special ammunition attached to it and has been modified to throw paint like a submachine gun. The paint itself is the most important part as it reacts negatively to a different chemical—one that’s been sprayed around the 10th division.

She’s not too sure of the specifics, but the moment a tagged Soul Reaper gets aggressive, they go sailing over the division’s wall ass-first.

“And just where did you get this?” Tōshirō asks with dread.

“Akon!” She chirps.

“Who?”

“He’s from the 12th,” she supplies helpfully. “He’s the 3rd seat.”

“ _What were you doing in the 12 th?_” Tōshirō’s knees buckle, and his fist hits the desk with great force as he fights to remain standing.

She thinks about what to say. Akon appeared on her second list of potential heroines, and having passed most of the criteria, she went to the 12th to ask him out. He was working on a project at the time, so he absentmindedly said, “Okay.”

They both mutually agreed thirty minutes into their first date that she’s not science-y enough to make it work, but they still go on plenty of not dates.

“Making friends,” she goes with.

Tōshirō, appearing to regret his decision to even know her, tells her to stop helping and sees himself out.

“And stay away from the 12th!” He calls over his shoulder.

Even after Tōshirō manages to wrangle the 10th division into working smoothly, she continues to make sweets for Yachiru. Baking for other people is surprisingly fun, and it’s a good excuse as any to get away from the 5th.

The 11th doesn’t like her, but Yachiru’s desire for sweets keeps them in line. She’s not exactly an innocent victim though. Tripping the unaware with silent Kidō is child’s play, and she’s working on a restraining spell chained with a weak lightning zap.

The 11th makes for good training dummies, she has to admit.

* * *

“For me?” Captain Aizen squints in merriment at the decorative bag of chocolate.

She bounces on the tips of her toes and beams down at the captain. He’s resting on the porch of the office building with piping hot tea beside him. He’s just settled down to relax then.

“The Women’s Association is selling handmade crafts for charity. I made these with my mother’s recipe, and I hoped you would taste test them for me.”

“Of course, I’ll try them right now.”

Captain Aizen makes a show of opening the bag and biting into a piece of chocolate. He praises both it and her loudly and warmly, and she swaggers to her desk with a dopey smile.

The smile fades away the moment she sits down.

She’s not _that_ stupid.

Captain Aizen wouldn’t actually eat anything she made. He was probably sitting there, laughing at her the whole time with his power of illusion. The chocolate must have been tossed away, assuming she wasn’t forced to eat it unaware.

It’s fine. She just needs to maintain appearances.

Tobiume silently fumes in the back of her mind, and she sends the sword spirit the equivalent of a warm hug. One day her heroine will come running—or perhaps she’ll do the running as he’s tied up and helpless—and they’ll spend so much time together, she’ll need a vacation.

And then Granny won’t be alone anymore with grandchildren to take care of.

She scratches another line on the list she keeps in her desk drawer; she puts it back before jotting down a grocery list on a blank piece of paper. Izuru will be able to help her get some fresh persimmons. The 3rd keeps them all over their division.

“That crazy about me, are ya, Peaches?”

She places the pie in Captain Ichimaru’s hands and makes a face up at him.

“I come as a friend of Masumoto,” she says before adding, “and I don’t poach boyfriends.”

“Who’s a boyfriend?” Captain Ichimaru’s eyes crack open just a tiny bit.

“Also you’re not that handsome—gah!” She’s knocked onto her butt as Captain Ichimaru flicks her forehead with all the strength of a mountain.

“So mean.” Tears well up in her eyes, and the stinging pain lingers.

Captain Ichimaru crouches down, and faster than she can see him, stuffs a piece of pie into her mouth. She blinks. It takes a moment before her brain registers the sweet taste on her tongue as something to eat.

Upon chewing and swallowing, she declares proudly,

“I did good.”

They stare at each other before Captain Ichimaru practically inhales the pie whole.

“Sure did,” he agrees.

Izuru stumbles upon them continuing to stare at each other, sitting and crouching respectively, and decides to drag her away from his captain before she does anything weird.

“You’ll do something to him or make him worse,” Izuru says with certainty while pulling her by the sleeve. “I’m sending out the word that you’re banned from 3rd division for the next six months.”

“How rude!” She pouts at his back.

“Reasonable. How reasonable,” he corrects.

She supposes Izuru’s reaction is a fair one. Most people still don’t believe in the rumors that she’s the reason 11th wound up with countless bruised tailbones; instead they attribute it to Tōshirō finally snapping. All her friends know the truth, however.

Renji says if she ever gets a boyfriend, he’ll have to be one hell of a Soul Reaper to keep up with her.

(Maybe she should expand her interest outside of Soul Reapers?)

She’s out drinking with Masumoto—fruit juice to her sake, of course—when Renji finds them, practically vibrating in place. Fresh bandages are wrapped around his head and arms, but she doesn’t see any blood.

“Out with it, what’s happened?” Masumoto, who’s been slurring with a blush, grows clear-eyed and alert.

Renji looks between them apprehensively before throwing his shoulders back with fiery eyes. He pounds his chest, and raw flesh laced with black ink peeks out from beneath the bandages. It’s all the warning she gets before Renji shouts,

“I’m going to be lieutenant of the 6th!”

“Yay, Renji!” She shrieks immediately, and Masumoto’s head hits the bar counter from the sheer volume. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

“This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?” Masumoto straightens up and winks before proceeding to yell herself. “HEY BARTENDER, GIVE US ONE OF EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT.”

Renji, grinning from ear to ear, takes a seat as the bar erupts into a drunken cheer for him. All her friends have become lieutenants (and a captain!), so she samples a little of every drink before passing it back to Renji and Masumoto.

Izuru and Hisagi join them halfway in before dragging in seated officers from the 11th. It becomes a contest on who can pass out last, and she sips on fruit juice as they guzzle the bar out of its alcohol.

She’s drunk enough not to trust herself with Captain Aizen if she goes back to the 5th, so she pretends to get too wasted to go home like the others.

They all split the bill before they pass out. She curls up on the bar’s floor and falls asleep with her head on Masumoto’s chest. The heartbeat lulls her better than any song.

A blast of ice against her forehead wakes her up.

“Urk, that’s cold, Shirō.”

The icy feeling retreats into something warmer, and she tries not to squirm at the discomfort of thin arms picking her up.

“Don’t fall asleep in public like that. It’s dangerous.” Little Shirō, she thinks fondly, always so serious and responsible.

“Tobiume was keeping watch,” she mutters sleepily.

“That doesn’t change the fact you can’t move,” Tōshirō says.

Tōshirō’s going to lecture her for hours after this—and he’ll definitely punish Masumoto for being a bad influence—but all that can wait until another time.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” she whispers.

“Any time.”

He doesn’t say anything more, and she falls back asleep as he carries her away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Momo continues to be Momo.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m going to tell her,” Renji says, fiddling nervously with his new sunglasses. “When she gets back from her mission, I’m going to tell Rukia I’m a lieutenant. We can hang out without her family being upset. If she wants,” he tacks on awkwardly.

“She’ll want to,” she reassures him.

“Just don’t wait to ask her out before someone else does,” Izuru says and Renji chokes on his own spit.

She offers to help with courtship gifts, and Izuru mentions the need for clothes and an outrageous hairstyle befitting a noble. Renji bears through their teasing with a red face and twitching eyebrows, but he’s happier than she’s ever seen him.

That happiness doesn’t last long.

Renji comes back from the human world with a downcast gaze and sunglasses nowhere in sight. As soon as the bars on Kuchiki Rukia’s jail cell slide shut, he disappears into the 6th without a word. He doesn’t make an appearance even as Central 46 judges Rukia’s offense to be worthy of soul eradication.

Giving Soul Reaper powers to a human temporarily in a desperate situation does not deserve such a heavy judgement, and everyone knows it.

“They’ve found her guilty of something more than we’re being told,” Izuru insists. “She must have done something to deserve it.”

There’s a desperation in the way Izuru keeps trying to convince her that Rukia is the devil incarnate. Central 46 is the only thing keeping the Soul Reapers in check; what happens if that system becomes more corrupt than they?

She hugs Izuru whenever he looks to be on the verge of a meltdown but says nothing to reassure him.

“Captain, what are your thoughts on the matter?” She asks quietly over a day shared doing paperwork.

Captain Aizen gives her a thoughtful glance and places his brush down. He curls a hand under his chin, and for a moment, his glasses glint in a way that hide his eyes.

“Central 46 makes no mistakes in their judgement. This is because they have been appointed by the Soul King, himself. What they decree, _he_ decrees. We, as Soul Reapers, have vowed to uphold the Soul King’s justice, and we cannot falter in the face of friends suddenly becoming someone we must fight against.”

There is no wavering of emotion in his voice. Unlike Izuru, Captain Aizen truly believes in what he says. His words soothe the worst of the pain sitting in her chest, and she looks at him with open fondness.

“Thank you, Captain. I will take your words to heart,” she says softly.

He smiles at her, and she gives him a small, honest one in return.

“Captain, I—”

The alarms go off, and she swallows back her words. Loud but not overly so and pulsing in short burst means an unauthorized guest in Seireitei, who doesn’t yet meet the concern of the captains.

“It’s only low level for now. I will send off squad 6 and 7 and have the rest remain of standby. Stay here in case you’re needed,” Captain Aizen tells her before leaving with a swish of his haori.

Putting on her game face, she locks up the remaining paperwork and goes to make tea. She piles her desk sky-high with snacks, and under the guise of stress eating, indulges herself. The alarm keeps going all the while, getting louder and steadier until it fades into the background.

The captain returns with news of Renji’s defeat.

“There will be a meeting in the morning. Captains and lieutenants are both required to attend,” Captain Aizen tells her solemnly.

She clutches the sleeve of her uniform hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Captain, can I,” she trails off with a troubled expression.

Captain Aizen, with the barest touch of his hand, tilts her chin up until she is gazing into gentle brown eyes behind thick lenses. There is a silent encouragement, an unspoken, “ _Tell me what you need._ ”

She does her best not to look at his face as she whispers,

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course, you can,” he whispers back.

When she wakes up, she’s alone. Beautiful and precise calligraphy hang from the walls, and she takes a moment to stare at them in the dim light streaming through paper screen of the door.

The futon smells just like the captain, she thinks absentmindedly.

She’s forgetting something. What was it? Something about a meeting—

“Shit,” she says, throwing the comforter off and jumping up.

She’s dressed and out the door in ten minutes. Bolting for the center of Seireitei, she takes a shortcut Captain Aizen showed her not too long ago. Being late to a meeting held by the captain-commander is much worse than jumping a couple of fences, the captain had told her with a wink.

With the steady jog she maintains, she thinks she can make it in time. Upon turning a corner, all thoughts of the meeting flee her mind.

Eyes going wide, she chokes on the scream strangled in her throat.

High above her, pinned to a building by a sword, is a familiar pretty face. Blood stains the white captain haori and paints the wall beneath in a large, dark streak.

Her throat clears, and she screams.

“Who’s screaming?” Her fellow lieutenants burst onto the scene only to freeze in their tracks.

“Captain Aizen!” Masumoto gasps.

Hisagi takes a step back while Iba gapes in horror. Izuru’s gaze goes from Captain Aizen’s body to hers.

“Momo, what—” Whatever Izuru planned to ask is silenced by a sinisterly cheerful voice.

“That you screamin’, Peaches?”

Lieutenant Ichimaru saunters up to them, eyes unbearably pleased and grin terrifyingly wide. There is no regard for the body hanging on the building in front of him.

Ichimaru had a part to play in this, she knows. She turns to him with a wild look and tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You! You killed him!” She shrieks.

Under everyone’s disbelieving eyes, she unsheathes Tobiume and rushes Ichimaru. Izuru is there to block her blade. The sheer strength in his defense makes her arms sting and tremble, but it’s his hurt expression that truly pains her.

“Move aside!” She demands with another scream in her throat. “I said _move aside, Izuru_.”

“Stop, Momo,” Izuru pleads with her. “Stop!”

She feels a chill on the back of her neck and knows the curtain is closing. If she wants to end this, she will need to fulfill her duty as Captain Aizen’s lieutenant.

“Snap, Tobiume.”

Her Zanpakuto transforms into a pronged blade, and Izuru gets a second of warning as flame goes from the hilt to the tip of her sword. The ensuing explosion sends them flying into opposite directions.

The other lieutenants do nothing but watch in shock as she catches herself and twists into stance that has her ready to strike. Her usual cheerful face is now set in a wrathful one.

“Momo, a Shikai? This isn’t the place for that! Calm yourself!” Izuru yells at her.

She keeps her sword raised and says nothing. Izuru, grief staining his face, bows his head before lifting his Zanpakuto in answer to her silent challenge.

“For the captain’s sake, I have no choice but to treat you as an enemy.” Izuru’s eyes turn from sorrowful to determined. “Raise your head, Wabisuke.”

Izuru’s blade twists, and any delusion that she’s back at the academy, getting ready to spar with her friends is shattered. There will be no coming back from crossing blades with the intent to kill.

He’ll forgive her one day, maybe.

She takes a deep breath and rushes forward at the same time Izuru moves. Before they can clash, their blades are deflected by a well-placed sword and a sandal.

“Don’t move,” Tōshirō warns them both.

Masumoto and Iba disarm her while Hisagi disarms Izuru. She allows a set of fresh tears to fall as Tōshirō sheathes his sword with a stoic face.

“Take them away. Lock them up until we get this resolved,” Tōshirō utters.

“Captain Aizen!” She begs the body with a sob as she’s pulled away. “Captain!”

Ichimaru’s unsettling grin aimed toward her is the last thing she sees before the world passes her by in a blur.

* * *

“A letter for you was found in Captain Aizen’s bedroom. If it wasn’t for my captain, it would have been sent to evidence,” Masumoto tells her. “Take it and find solace in being a lieutenant that hears their captain’s final words.”

A sealed letter is thrust through the bars, and she takes it like one would a potential bomb. Masumoto, grim and severe, utters a low, “Hang in there” before taking her leave.

Opening the letter is a painfully slow affair. Mainly because her fingers are still stiff from her brief tussle with Izuru.

“ _Hinamori, if you are reading this then I am in a world I cannot return from_ ,” the letter begins before going on to say that Tōshirō had him killed for knowing too much about a conspiracy happening in Seireitei.

Feeling nauseous, she sets the letter aside and considers her options. Her guard makes an appearance to slide her a cup of warm tea through the bars.

“From your ex,” her guard says with a disturbed look on his face. “I had to accept it because he outranks me, but please don’t actually drink it.”

She gives him a silent nod of thanks and waits until the guard disappears before downing the tea in one big gulp. She shudders as the taste nearly makes her throw up. Nearly anything would be better than that.

When she’s certain that most of her nausea has passed, she stands up and faces the wall opposite to the bars. Putting her hands together as if in prayer, she closes her eyes.

" _Ye lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of man. Inferno and pandemonium_ ,” she begins quietly and reverently before her eyes snap open. “ _Now shut up and blow up!”_

The wall disappears in a flash of red, and she dashes away before anyone is the wiser.

She finds Tōshirō attacking Ichimaru and Izuru. She makes a grand showing of waving her sword at Tōshirō and declaring him to be the one to kill Captain Aizen. She’s then knocked out by the flat of Tōshirō’s blade.

She wakes up in a different cell this time. It’s smaller, yet more comfortable. She gives her grudging approval at the seals that aim to stop the walls from blowing up.

From the outside anyway.

She waits until she’s gifted another cup of tea—and blegh, that tastes just as bad as the first time—before making her escape for a second time. It’s a bit harder to get around the new seals, so she loses a little of her patience when blowing up the wall.

" _Ye lord, mask of blood and flesh, blah, blah, ye blah. Inferno and pandemonium. My throat is still sore, so just burn already.”_

Just a little.

She masks her presence and goes to find Tōshirō. It’s not long before she finds him making his way to Central 46 alongside Matsumoto. Despite their quick strides, they go slow enough that she has to hide behind corners and trees to not get caught.

(She’d make a fabulous ninja. Maybe she should transfer to the 2nd? Nah, they’d probably kill and dump her body within a day.)

She waits until Tōshirō and Matsumoto are chasing Izuru out of the building before she sneaks her way into Central 46’s headquarters. A brutal scene awaits: every man has been murdered where they sit. Some of the bodies are clearly decomposing, practically melting into their seats.

She smothers a horrified gasp behind her hand. Compared to her normal Hollow battles, this really is a gruesome sight.

“Hello, Peaches. Fancy seein’ ya here.”

She whirls around to find Ichimaru looming over her. The darkness of the room obscures some of his face, but she thinks his grin looks a bit more strained than normal.

“Captain Ichimaru, did Tōshirō do this? Or was it Izuru?” She whispers while avoiding his gaze.

“There’s someone who wants to see you. He’ll give you your answers.”

 _But you’ll wish you hadn’t asked_ , is the silent words between them.

Her stomach flutters, and she fights down the urge to run for the door. If there was ever a horror movie moment in her life, this is it.

Looking past Ichimaru, she catches sight of a pair of familiar eyeglasses and her breath hitches in her throat. The world feels like it is sliding out from beneath her.

“Captain Aizen?”

“Hinamori,” Captain Aizen calls out.

Looking remarkably alive, Captain Aizen approaches her with his usual gliding steps. She can only look at him, mesmerized. Stopping out of arm’s reach, he holds his arms out wide and repeats her name.

“I knew you couldn’t be dead!” She cries before diving into his arms.

Aizen’s scent overwhelms her, and she passes out just as the tip of the knife presses into her skin.

* * *

“Momo, get up.”

Something slaps her face, and she groans. She doesn’t care if she has a meeting with the Soul King, she’s not getting out of bed until she’s ready.

“Momo!”

Ice goes down the back of her collar, and she sits up with a screech.

“I’m up!”

Dazed, it takes her a moment to realize she’s not in her warm, soft bed. The pool of blood beneath her should be cause for concern, but upon noticing Tōshirō crouching next to her and clutching his side, she’s more worried about _his_ pool of blood.

“You okay, Shirō?”

He’s frozen a layer of ice over his injuries, but it’s a bandage at most. She scans him for anything else, but the gash seems to be the worst of it.

“Fine,” he says shortly. “How about you?”

She pokes at the hole in her gut. There is no pain, and it doesn’t seem like her insides will tumble out anytime soon.

“All good here! I didn’t feel a thing either,” she says with a smile. “Akon does good work with his medicine.”

Ice seals over her entry and exit wounds, and she allows Tōshirō to pull her up on her feet. They both look in the distance where they can feel an absurd amount of Reiatsu being released. Tōshirō scowls and flexes his fingers as if picturing strangling someone.

“Let’s go, Momo,” he orders.

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir!” She chirps, and Tōshirō lets out an exasperated sigh.

They make it just in time to see Aizen reach into Rukia’s soul. Renji, Captain Komamura, and someone she assumes is Berry can only lie there, watching in horror as Rukia screams in pain. Aizen, smug and grinning in delight, pulls the Hōgyoku out and holds it up in triumph.

The face he makes when the Hōgyoku shatters into a million pieces is one she’ll never forget.

“Now, Gin!” She yells as Tōshirō flies forward on ice wings.

Gin, wasting no time, stabs Tōsen from the side with his Shikai. Her hands go up, and she releases two simultaneous restraining spells. Aizen breaks out of her spell instantly, but to her pleasure, Tōsen remains a statue.

Tōshirō waits for Aizen to make a move, Shikai circling the execution ground from above. There’s a ring of ice around the two of the them, and she knows the minute Aizen steps through it, illusion or not, it’ll freeze him instantly.

The rest of Gotei 13 rush the scene all at once. Aizen lets out a pulse of Reiatsu to call for help, but a chilling wind smothers it before it can go anywhere.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Tōshirō clenches his hand and Aizen goes still with wide eyes. “My ice is currently encasing your heart. All I need is one squeeze.”

The execution ground is tense and quiet even as the 4th make their way to over to the injured, even as Captain Kuchiki holds his sister to his chest with blade held out. Masumoto and Izuru move to their captains’ backs, and she gives Aizen an inscrutable look.

The captain-commander clears his throat in a way that sounds like an airplane taking off, but before he can say anything, she bounces up to her old captain with a bright smile. Tōshirō opens the way for her before closing the ice ring behind her.

Ignoring the sudden raising of swords behind her, she makes herself as tall as she can on tiptoes while keeping her wrist gripped behind her back.

“Checkmate,” she announces cheerfully.

And then, in front of everyone, she kicks Aizen in the balls with Kidō reinforcing her leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knew you could do it, Momo!


End file.
